


No day but today

by dokyun (kissthesea)



Category: History (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Escapism, Lost Boys, M/M, Partying, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 11:11:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3975910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissthesea/pseuds/dokyun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five lost boys walk into several bars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No day but today

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kpop-olymfics on Livejournal. Song prompt was 2PM's "Go Crazy." Italicized lyrics are from RENT's "No Day But Today."

_There's only us_  
There's only this  
Forget regret-- or life is yours to miss 

 

From the moment his boots touch the ground, Dokyun decides he likes this place. His breath comes in white little puffs and the weather surprises him; when they come and go like this, keeping up with seasons and forecasts is pretty impossible. Frigid as the night is, Dokyun likes this city. His mind scrambles until it grasps an unfamiliar name. He gives Kyungil a questioning glance and the guy just shrugs.

"I think we've been here before. Just... a long time ago."

That, not to mention the disgruntled confusion on Kyungil's face, is enough to make Dokyun chuckle.

"It'll do," Jaeho adds with an eager smile. Yijeong gives a halfhearted shrug but he's bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Dokyun sighs, releasing another long stream of breath into the cold air. Whether they've been here before or not isn't important. Dokyun sometimes likes to try to memorize the details of the places they visit, but he knows better than to expect the same of his friends. If they like the city, they'll linger for at most a week or two. If they don't, they'll be gone come morning. 

In the distance Dokyun's ears pick up the dull thud of bass and a screech of inebriated laughter. The distant vibrations tingle along his skin and he flexes his fingers at his sides. He takes a deep breath and lets the exhaust, sweat and dampness of the streets sink in. 

Dokyun turns to the others and they share a grin. "It's time."

-

Sihyoung wakes to the sound of his world crumbling. Or rather, that's what it feels like. There's a familiar angry voice shouting at him between bangs on his bedroom door and an even more familiar, and completely worse, silence in the background. Jiho's usually perfect face is flushed and Sihyoung almost thinks his friend is going to hit him, but of course Jiho doesn't.

"What the hell happened to you last night?"

Between the blaring fluorescent light of the kitchen and the murky state of his brain Sihyoung finds he can't quite answer, and Jiho doesn't seem to want an answer, either. He sighs and deflates, retreating to the silent figure waiting at the kitchen table. His mother doesn't look up from her coffee, but takes a long, careful sip as she stares at the vase of flowers directly opposite her.

Sihyoung's mouth is dry and tastes like hell, but he manages to croak out a pathetic, "Sorry."

His mother doesn't flinch, nor does she give any other indication that she's heard him. She drums her fingers on the table once and asks, "Have you taken your medicine yet?"

He shakes his head. May be he would have, if they hadn't chosen to wake him up like this, but he doesn't mention it. He can see the bags under her eyes from across the room. He knows she must have been up all night, waiting for him to come home. That's exactly why he hadn't wanted to come home at all.

That's exactly what he'd _said_. To someone. Through his hangover he distinctly remembers doing so, but when he tries to recall more his brain throbs and he has to sit down.

"I told you to go home, man. Why didn't you leave with us?"

The question usually would make Sihyoung feel bad, except Jiho sounds so damn high and mighty all Sihyoung wants to do is wring his neck. Which is another thing he's pretty sure he tried to do last night, and isn't surprised he didn't succeed at.

 _Saw you try to kill your friend. Fucking hilarious_ , a voice laughs and Sihyoung grabs at the memory, tries to get it to hold still, but it slips away like it's trying to tease him.

Then Jiho is in his face, practically shouting, and Sihyoung steps a way with an angry growl. "What the hell do you care?" He rubs his temples but nothing is calming him. He can't remember the last time he was calm, actually. Not since- "I wanted to have a good time, just one more fucking good time before things got serious."

"And we gave you that," Jiho insists.

But it hadn't been enough. Sihyoung doesn't dare say this. He looks at Jiho and knows his best friend is trying. He looks at his mother, her knuckles white where she grips the sides of her mug, and knows she's trying even more.

But it isn't enough.

Sihyoung grabs his coat from the back of his chair and heads for the front door. He's wearing the same rumpled and stained clothes from the night before, but he doesn't care. He pauses in the doorway only when he hears his mother's quiet, gentle voice call after him.

"Don't forget your appointment."

He grinds his teeth and shoves through the door. The screen bangs shut and something flickers in his memory, stronger this time.

 _Don't forget me._ Does that voice say anything without laughing? The thought for some reason makes Sihyoung smile, and he goes for his phone before he realizes what he's doing.

A face winks at him from his lock screen. His fingers shake as he types in his pass code. A notification screams at him that he has a ridiculous number of missed calls, but that's not what grabs his attention. There's a single new text message, from a number his phone doesn't recognize.

**Call me. ;)**

-

_His features were sharp and pointed, from his chin to his cheekbones to the very corners of his eyebrows. His voice was impossibly deep, like a sluggish bass line. Sometimes Dokyun couldn't catch the words that harmonized with the music around them. His long limbs folded and jutted out awkwardly to try and take up as little room in the booth as possible, and Dokyun filled the space between them with laughter. It took effort to get Sihyoung to laugh. Dokyun spent all night trying._

-

Dokyun lounges in the annoyingly squeaky vinyl booth, flipping his burner phone open and closed. Jaeho and Yijeong are at the bar, hamming it up for the bartender. With what they have planned for tonight, they might as well get in his good graces now. He'll no doubt want to murder them by dawn. Not that he'll remember a thing. Dokyun looks around the bar with a pleased smile. They've picked a good place- high end, exclusive and cozy. The perfect place to make their debut.

This city was going to regret being so damn fun.

He flips his phone open, glances at the screen and frowns. "Did you actually think he was going to call?" Yijeong drawls as he flips over the back of the booth. Dokyun grumbles and shifts his legs down to give the kid room.

"I'm on edge." He holds his hand up so the kid can watch it trembling. He flexes his fingers to ease the tension and knows the others are feeling the same. Last night had been fun, but not enough. They've had a taste of what they came for, but there was so much more to be had. Knowing tonight would be even better only made it that much harder to wait.

It's a valid excuse for his nerves, but the others don't buy it. "Giving him your number was fucking stupid, man," Jaeho says with obvious amusement. "The real party's starting tonight, remember?"

"Obviously," Dokyun grumbles. He misses the days when Jaeho and Yijeong acted like the babies they were when Dokyun first met them, when they didn't tend to sound quite so much like what they were now. He sighs and spins the stupid hunk of plastic on the table. "It was _funny_."

"And leaving your picture on his phone?" Kyungil asks with a smirk. The dynamic duo gape at that and Dokyun hides his surprise with a smile; he hadn't realized anyone knew about that.

"He was also kind of cute, in a drunk and suicidal kind of way."

Kyungil grunts and rests against the side of the table, snatching up the phone. Dokyun frowns, but resists the urge to grab it back. Who knows what comments that would earn him. "Don't joke about death just 'cause you can't die."

That sends the kids tittering and Dokyun shrugs them all off. He doesn't need their approval to do anything, and they all know that. He's not even sure why he'd been so into the guy to begin with. Dokyun doesn't like questioning his actions; it goes against his nature, _their_ nature. They live by impulse alone.

An artificial chime breaks the amused silence and Dokyun goes rigid in his seat.

"Well, well," Kyungil croons, tossing the phone into Dokyun's hand. "You've got mail."

-

_When he laughed, the soft curves of his cheeks rose until his eyes were barely visible. When he spoke to his friends, his fingers drummed on the table and his knee bounced, and Sihyoung thought at any second this guy was going to leap to his feet and do... he wasn't sure, but something amazing. Dokyun had a habit of sitting uncomfortably close, but tonight Sihyoung found it comforting. Even Dokyun's heartbeat was erratic, racing towards something beyond Sihyoung's imagination._

_'You seem happy tonight.'_

_'And you seem considerably less drunk,' Dokyun countered with a wink._

_Not from alcohol, anyway, though he wouldn't say as much out loud. But the lights in the club were brighter tonight, the sounds and smells sharper. Every time their knees accidentally bumped together or their eyes happened to meet, Sihyoung felt the world narrow and focus, blocking out everything and everyone around them, for a split second._

\- 

The next morning, Sihyoung has no problem remembering. When he closes his eyes, he sees Dokyun's face, hears his laugh. When he drags his once again hungover self into the shower he grins like an idiot thinking about how Dokyun had neglected his friends all night, so clearly surprised that Sihyoung had texted him back. The way his eyes never drifted away, the way his hand would now and then stray to the back if Sihyoung's neck, the way Dokyun seemed to sit a little closer every time he left and came back to their booth- it all hinted at an undeniable, delicious _something_.

It hurt, how happy he was. What a terrible time to fall in love.

Regardless he floats out of his bedroom and to the kitchen table, where his mother is watching the news. She gives him that gentle, concerned look that makes him want to hide under the table and he focuses on getting his breakfast ready. The newscaster's voice fills silence.

"Police are investigating an apparent case of vandalism and arson at a local jazz club..."

When he hears the club's name, the pan slips from his hand.

-

For the first time in his impossibly long life, Dokyun knows he's made a mistake. Today he holds his phone and his glass of watered down alcohol with a steady hand. He's like a cat in a morning sunbeam where's he's stretched across the empty chairs. His body hums pleasantly along with the rhythm of the universe. This should be all he feels, the morning after the real party begins.

And yet, at the back of his mind, he knows something's not right.

He knows the second Sihyoung enters the bar. Sihyoung's lanky form is tense, his jaw working as he looks around until he finally spies their group. There's a moment of warmth when his eyes meet Dokyun's, a moment that makes Dokyun's entire being want to leap from the table and run. But he can't decide if he wants to run to Sihyoung or out the damn door. The moment doesn't last and wariness creeps in. Sihyoung approaches with an awkward wave and slides into the booth with a smile, but he's closed off. 

He's afraid, and it sharpens Dokyun's smile. Sihyoung flinches from the smile as if from a feral animal.

"Shit, he knows," Yijeong sighs. That makes Sihyoung flinch, too, and Dokyun's patience is fraying.

Kyungil meets his gaze and Dokyun lowers his eyes, instantly ashamed.

"You wanted to see us?" Kyungil asks, all friendly and casual, though Dokyun knows better. Dokyun refuses to look up from the table, tooling his features into cool indifference which is really damn hard when he can feel Sihyoung watching him.

Luckily, Jaeho pipes in, hopping into the opposite booth seat. "It's a little early to start drinking, but we're in. If that's what you're here for." His voice tightens around those last words, setting the trap. Dokyun's hand squeezes into a fist and he hopes, no, _prays_ Sihyoung just lets it be.

"The club we were in last night. It burned to the ground."

Kyungil's response is quick- too quick, Dokyun notes, and too casual. "Oh? That's unfortunate."

"Yeah," Yijeong adds noncommittally. 

"Nice place," Jaeho agrees.

Dokyun hears the warning in their voices: back off, get out, run while you still can. Dokyun swallows hard and knows he should back them up, but he can't find the words. 

Beside him, Dokyun feels Sihyoung stiffen. He senses it, too. Dokyun wants to reach out to him, defend him, but knows he can't. He shouldn't have done this- he shouldn't have let Sihyoung remember-

"I know you all did it."

So much for backing off. Dokyun actually laughs, and he can feel the others watching him. He looks up and is surprised at the steady intensity in Sihyoung's eyes. There's fear there, too. But there's no going back, and Sihyoung knows it.

Sihyoung must notice the change in Dokyun's expression, because he actually smiles and winks.

Then he turns to the others, and Dokyun turns with him. The others don't look nearly so amused and he can't blame them. He's the one who started this. Maybe he'd seen this coming the first night he'd approached Sihyoung. He's a creature of chaos, after all. 

"I don't care that you did it," Sihyoung suddenly continues. His words burst from him, taking more and more energy, and possibly courage, to get out. "I won't go to the police. I won't tell anyone. I... want to know why you did it." He swallows hard, glancing at Dokyun. 

It takes him a moment to collect himself to speak again, and this time, his voice is so quiet Dokyun thinks he mishears him. "I want in."

-

_The sun was beginning to peek through the apartment's heavy curtains, but Sihyoung knew Dokyun wasn't sleeping. He kicked him lightly under the blanket, but Dokyun just grunted._

_'You're angry.'_

_Dokyun sighed, 'No, just extremely conflicted.'_

_'I want this.'_

_'You want to be lost?'_

_'Lost with you,' he corrected with a smile._

_'A lost cause.' Dokyun noticed the smile but didn't return it._

_'Lost without you.'_

_This time a hint of a smile made Dokyun crawl closer, his arms tight around Sihyoung's narrow waist. 'One of the lost boys.'_

_The words were slow and heavy, as if dragged from his body. Sihyoung sought out one of Dokyun's hands and brought it to his lips._

_'Lost and found.'_

-

The cafe is nearly empty when Sihyoung joins Kyungil, Yijeong and Jaeho at a small table near the windows. Sihyoung's eyes shift to the empty fifth chair, and Jaeho shoves it away with a foot.

"This ain't right," Jaeho says, and even Sihyoung nods with the others.

Sihyoung folds his hands carefully on the table. He takes deep breaths, fighting the fatigue plaguing his body. "It isn't, but there's no choice."

"You should tell him," Yijeong offers gently. The kid's eyes look up hopefully and immediately shift away when they find Sihyoung's face. Sihyoung knows he looks terrible today. It's exactly why he can't risk seeing Dokyun right now.

"He made his decision, you know that." Sihyoung shivers and hates how closely the others are watching. Assessing. "He won't let me join, but I'm asking you all to."

Kyungil swipes a hand over his face. They, too, don't look so hot in the light of day. They're usually fast asleep by now, waiting for the bars to open.

It's been six days. Two nightclubs, two jazz bars and one hookah place mysteriously wrecked, some partially burned. 

"We're not angels of mercy, Sihyoung," Kyungil says as if reading Sihyoung's mind. 

"No, you're a bunch of immortal frat boys who get off on partying until you literally bring the house down." The words come out sharper than intended, but Kyungil just smiles. Jaeho actually laughs out loud, and for a moment Sihyoung swears the three pairs of eyes watching him glow.

Sihyoung swallows.

"We're a lot more than that," Kyungil replies, voice low even thought Sihyoung needs no help spotting a threat. A second later, though, the three of them exchange an exhausted nod and Kyungil shrugs. "But we _do_ get off on a little chaos, and I've gotta see how things goes down." They get to their feet and Kyungil tosses something into Sihyoung's lap. It glitters in the sunlight and it takes Sihyoung a minute of turning it in his hands to recognize it: a flask. The outside sparkles like diamonds despite being a plain stainless steel. When he turns it around he can feel a small amount of liquid sloshing inside.

He looks up, and the others are gone. 

-

_Dokyun sat in front of the fire , the flask resting in one hand on his knee. The first night he'd brought Sihyoung here, Sihyoung had teased him endlessly about being old-fashioned enough to rent probably the only modern apartment that still had a real fireplace. Dokyun had said he happened to feel very comfortable around old things._

_Across the room in the bed, Sihyoung snored softly. It was a familiar, reassuring sound now. Dokyun closed his eyes and focused only on that sound, determined to imprint it in his memory. Ever since that first night, Dokyun had found himself wishing he didn't have to let go._

_He twisted the cap off the flask. It was empty._

_But not like this._

-

Sihyoung surveys his room one more time and shoves one more pair of socks into his duffel bag. He isn't sure what exactly he'll need, and he knows the others are going to give him grief for over packing. He isn't even sure he's seen the others wearing more than the one outfit. It doesn't seem very hygienic, but they have never smelled bad, either.

His mind is moving too fast and he has to take a moment to get his breathing under control. His new heart rate never seems to slow and it feels like he's about to explode from too much adrenaline.

There will be time to adjust, he reminds himself. He has all the time in the world. He utters a strange, high-pitched giggle at the thought. He looks at his reflection in the mirror above the rows of prescription bottles and marvels and how well-rested he looks. His fatigue is gone, as are the aches, the nausea, everything. He rests a hand on his chest and takes a long, unpained breath.

This has to be worth it.

When he leaves his room, Dokyun is waiting at the kitchen table. Sihyoung blinks in surprise and shifts his bag to the other hand. A thick stack of envelopes sits on the table in front of Dokyun.

"Did you at least take care of these first?" He doesn't look away from the medical bills and Sihyoung's chest suddenly aches.

He lets the bag drop and moves to the table. He almost reaches for Dokyun but settles for gripping the top of a chair instead. "I sold some stuff."

"Did you tell your mother or leave her a note?"

"A note," he murmurs. He wishes Dokyun would look at him; Sihyoung's never had this much trouble reading him before. With a vague nod, Dokyun shoves himself to his feet and grabs Sihyoung's bag from the floor. Sihyoung stumbles over his own feet trying to follow as Dokyun storms out of the house. "I didn't want you to let me join just because I was dying!" he calls after him. Just outside the front door, Dokyun pauses. "I wanted you to let me in."

The words make Dokyun flinch, and he looks over his shoulder. "This was never about me, Sihyoung."

-

Sihyoung's stomach flutters as his shoes find the ground. Around him, Jaeho and Yijeong are shoving each other playfully and Kyungil is already watching a crowd of girls head towards a nearby bar. They're in the middle of the street surrounded by people, and yet no one seems to notice their arrival. The voices hit Sihyoung and he staggers. At first the language is a senseless jabber of unfamiliar syllables, and then the sounds smooth, find their correct shape and the meaning slowly comes with it. It doesn't matter how often they do this, Sihyoung can't seem to get used to it.

"You look like a dying fish." An elbow jabs Sihyoung in the side and he instinctively gives Yijeong's head a smack back. Jaeho grabs the kid in a headlock but not before opening and closing his mouth at Sihyoung, his eyes rolled up into his head.

Kyungil stretches lazily and looks to their leader. Dokyun is standing less than an arm's reach away, but he might as well be in another world.

"Let's go," he murmurs quietly but they all hear him. Sihyoung follows at Dokyun's elbow, always waiting for the right moment.

He's been waiting for years already, and he knows he's going to be waiting for years more. It doesn't matter. He's got the time now. As long as Dokyun is there, Sihyoung isn't lost. Not anymore.

 

_No other road_  
No other way  
No day but today 


End file.
